Bloody Hero
by JaycenMackenzie
Summary: Harry unexpectedly runs into an old nemesis.


It was a favourite place of his, the pier. Sometime before the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin had mentioned that it was where James Potter had proposed to Lily.

Harry sometimes imagined his parents as twenty-year-olds blissfully basking in their days as a happy couple with no threat of an evil, power hungry wizard looming over them. After getting married, they would have been looking forward to the rest of their lives. Maybe they saw a future of having a big family where they could have those stressful Christmas dinners. Perhaps they pictured scheduling play dates with their friends' children. Or they might have imagined seeing their kids grow up, graduate, and maybe even see them get married.

All visions for the future of Lily and James Potter had been whisked away by a single monster many years ago. But that monster had been defeated and forgotten while the memories of the Potter's remained untarnished as the ones who created a hero.

He liked to walk alone on the pier. Quite often after work Harry would apparate to a nearby loo, and take long strolls by the calming atmosphere of the sea. He would walk for a half hour until he reached a muggle pub called the Old Boot. There, he'd order a couple whiskeys and sit by himself at the bar watching football on the wall-mounted television. He didn't have a particular team he supported, though he was more partial towards Arsenal as he'd heard that his mother was a fan.

Oftentimes his mind would drift from the game, which didn't quite keep his attention as Quidditch did, and he would find himself thinking about things he hadn't thought about in a while. He thought of the first time he'd met Colin Creevey, an annoyance in Harry's second year, but who'd bravely fought and lost his life in the Battle of Hogwarts. He thought about Tonks and how their first encounter was

His mind would float in a sea of faces who set down their lives to help defeat Voldemort and prevent the reign of darkness he would have held. They, who impacted the course of history beyond any way they could have imagined, would always be remembered by Harry.

As Harry's mind began drifting towards Fred Weasley and the haunting image of the twin's last laugh etched on his face, an angry shout and the shattering of glass broke Harry out of his reverie.

"I am not bloody drunk, you arsehole! Get your filthy hands off of me!"

On the other side of the pub, a man was being hauled to his feet by a burly security guard. He was flailing his arms, apparently trying to swing a punch at his restrainer, but was not sober enough to coordinate himself. A wild punch was thrown a metre to the left, knocking a beer bottle onto the ground.

The man continued to shout and swear angrily as he was dragged to the exit.

"You bloody muggle! Let me go! I'm a blasted Malfoy, you fool!"

As soon as he heard the familiar name, Harry was out of his seat and out the door. The security stomped back in, scowling because of the beer that had spilled on his pants. Harry made sure to give him a wide berth on his way out.

In an undignified heap in the snow was a very familiar man. He looked older than when Harry last saw him, with his nose and jawline sharper and lines beginning to crease his forehead, but there was no mistaking his platinum blonde hair and those cold grey eyes.

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry, looking down at his drunken former schoolmate and enemy who was struggling to right himself. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Piss off, Potter," said Malfoy, standing up with a toss of his cloak, and then stumbling into the lamppost.

Harry contemplated leaving Malfoy to find his own way back to wherever he needed to be. Even incredibly drunk, Malfoy didn't warrant any help from a schoolmate he'd bullied for years. If it were Harry in Malfoy's position, he knew the Slytherin would leave him out in the snow without a second thought, even if Harry had testified against the lifelong imprisonment of the Malfoy family.

It was a month after the Battle of Hogwarts when the trials for Death Eaters and Voldemort co-conspirators started. Many Death Eaters were sentenced to life in Azkaban, while indirectly-involved Ministry people like Dolores Umbridge were given more lenient sentences (despite Harry's extreme prejudice towards seeing her locked away for life).

Lucius Malfoy was put on trial for aiding and abetting Voldemort. Having a previous record already, the court was ready to immediately send Lucius to Azkaban for life.

Similarly to how Dumbledore helped Harry in the summer before his fifth year, Harry stepped in to vouch for Lucius Malfoy's pleas for leniency due to their claims of no longer truly supporting Voldemort and the Death Eaters for months before the Battle. To affirm this, Lucius willingly gave up a long list of Death Eaters that were still on the loose.

Wizengamot eventually relented, and Lucius and his family were free.

Ron still gave Harry flack for helping the Malfoy's after everything they had done to support Voldemort. He didn't see the terror and reluctance that Draco had shown after realizing the reality of being a Death Eater. He didn't feel the cold hand of Narcissa feel a heartbeat but proclaim to her fearful master that Harry was dead. Ron only saw the family who'd relentlessly shamed the Weasley's for sympathizing with muggles.

Before Harry now was the frightened boy who had lowered his wand on that fateful night in the Astronomy Tower.

"Why are you still standing there?" snarled Draco. "I told you to leave."

"I've never seen you here before," said Harry, ignoring Malfoy's glare, which was much less acidic than it would have been if he were sober.

"It would've been better to keep it that way." But there wasn't the usual poison behind those words. As a pair of car headlights flashed past, Harry could properly see the dark circles under Malfoy's eyes. They reflected the weariness of someone who was drinking to forget.

For some reason, Harry couldn't leave his former nemesis. "That was quite a show you put on inside, shouting about muggles and how you're a Malfoy. I don't reckon Archer will let you in next time."

Malfoy plunged his hand into his coat and, for a moment, Harry thought Draco might hex him. Instead, he pulled out his wallet.

"Astoria Greengrass," said Malfoy with a heavy sigh. He showed Harry a photo of a pretty, dark-haired young woman. "A couple years below us at school. She broke my heart."

"Oh." Harry wasn't quite sure what he had expected Malfoy to say, but that was one of the last things he would have come up with. "Uh - blimey, that's - uh -"

Malfoy produced another object from his pocket. "I was about to propose to her when she said that it was over." He held up a silver ring with a large diamond surrounded by smaller emeralds. "And then she left me at the restaurant before we'd even started eating."

To be telling Harry about a tale of a broken heart, Draco must have been way off his rocker. Even from a few feet away Harry could smell the alcohol off him. This lack of composure threw Harry off. He'd seen Malfoy cry before, but any sympathy then had been immediately quashed by Draco attempting to curse him. This was a much different scenario.

If it had been Ron, Harry would have immediately dropped everything to help his best friend get over the heartbreak. He would take them back to his place, make them a cup of tea, and stay by their side while they wallowed.

Harry doubted Malfoy would appreciate the comfort once he sobered up. Still, he couldn't let a former classmate wander London on their own in the dark, when it was beginning to snow more heavily. And using the Floo Network or apparating while intoxicated was a bad idea. There had been numerous cases of drunk wizards ending up in the wrong house or leaving an arm behind while apparating. As much as he disliked Malfoy, being a ministry official made Harry feel obligated to prevent any mishaps.

"Here," said Harry, teeth chattering, "let's find somewhere warm. And quit waving the bloody ring around."

OoOoOoO

There was a cafe a few blocks down that Harry and Ginny frequented. The flashing Christmas lights decorating the exterior were just visible through the heavily-falling snow and were welcome sight from across the street. Harry could see the fireplace crackling and his frozen feet hurried to the door.

He almost forgot Malfoy was following him, and half-expected to turn around and find himself alone. Surprisingly, the Slytherin remained by Harry the whole way, though he stayed oddly quiet.

A blast of warm air greeted Harry, whose uncovered face was incredibly cold and wet from the snow. He stomped the snow off his boots, then found a seat right next to the fireplace, which was mercifully away from the front door.

Draco sank down onto the seat across from Harry, looking slightly less dazed than outside of the pub. The cold seemed to have shocked some of the drunkenness out of him. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"I'm getting tea," announced Harry.

Malfoy didn't respond, only staring at the fireplace with unfocused eyes.

When Harry returned with a piping hot drink, his drunk companion was in the same position. Harry was beginning to regret being nice to Malfoy.

"You know, Potter," said Malfoy after a few silent minutes, "I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way around London." Some of his vehemence returned.

"You didn't have to follow me," said Harry. He decided that he liked the silent Malfoy much better.

"Well what else was I supposed to do? I'm trying to become a better man. Turning down an offer of kindness didn't seem the right way to start that journey off." Malfoy looked bitter. "Bloody Gryffindors always trying to be noble. You should just mind your own business."

Harry knew there was no point in arguing with someone whose been drinking. His words would have little effect on Malfoy.

"And what's worse," said Malfoy with a sneer," is that you always think you're doing the right thing. Your damned hero complexes. You're all willing to give everything up to be the hero, and for what?"

"To help others," said Harry, taking a sip of his tea.

"I don't need your bloody help."

"The fact that you were lying face down in the snow just minutes ago begs to differ." Harry was getting annoyed with the petulant tone that Malfoy was beginning to employ. "Same with the time I saved your ungrateful arse from burning to death. And remember when you were on your knees begging to a fellow Death Eater for your life two years ago?"

Harry knew that it was a low blow. Those memories were ones that Malfoy probably would have liked to forget. The Battle took its toll on everyone, teachers, students, and ministry members alike. He knew many fellow classmates who still had nightmares from seeing the deaths of friends and family.

"I knew it was you," mumbled Draco. "You punched me."

"Yeah, you're welcome. And credit Ron for that."

"Thank you."

Harry dribbled some of the tea he'd just took a sip of onto his shirt. Verbally-expressed gratitude from a drunk Malfoy was like a drunken kiss: it didn't count. That didn't stop Harry from doing a double take when the word came out of his nemesis's mouth.

They lasped into silence after that. Draco looked as if he'd pass out any second.

Harry was exhausted. He'd intended on going home and having a quiet late dinner with Ginny. Instead, he'd run into Malfoy, and, as per usual, the Slytherin messed up his plans.

"Where do you need to go?" asked Harry. He didn't need Malfoy falling asleep in a muggle cafe.

Draco shrugged unhelpfully. "Nowhere."

Oh for -

"I'm taking you to Diagon Alley," said Harry decidedly. "You can sleep at the Leaky Cauldron, outside or in, I don't care."

"That place?" Malfoy wrinkled his nose. Apparently, even while drunk he still had his family name to uphold.

Harry hauled Malfoy to his feet, ignoring the looks of customers as he dragged Draco out the door and back into the cold. Turning down an alley, he gripped his drunken companion tightly around the bicep. With a spin, the familiar, yet always nauseating sensation of being squeezed and stretched in all directions began. Just as Harry felt his lungs running out of air, the compression ceased and he could breathe again.

Dropping his grip on Malfoy, he sighed heavily as Draco stumbled and collapsed onto the welcoming sight of cobblestone road.

Hauling him up once again, Harry had to support Malfoy all the way down Diagon Alley.

"Here we go," said Harry as he shoved Malfoy through the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Bastard," slurred Draco as he bumped into the doorframe. "Don't push me."

"Just go inside."

The warmth immediately rushed over Harry. It wasn't just the heat from the fireplace or the magically-regulated temperature. This had been the gateway to Harry's new life. This was the transition from the lonely muggle world, where the strange occurrences of making glass disappear or blowing his aunt up into a balloon, to the magical wizarding world, where happenings like those didn't make Harry feel like a freak.

It was mostly empty now. There were a few customers seated along the dining bench and a couple at the bar. Nobody gave Harry and Malfoy a second glance.

"Hullo, Tom," said Harry to the owner and bartender of the Leaky Cauldron. "Just want to single a room for the night."

Tom looked warily at Malfoy, who was leaning against the bar, trying to look less drunk than he was.

Harry shook his head. "It's okay. He'll be harmless."

Passed out for the night and waking up with a pounding headache assured that Malfoy could cause no trouble for the next twelve hours.

They got a key for a small room, which was not unlike the one Harry had stayed in for a month the summer before his third year. It had a single four-poster bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a bathroom. The window overlooked the street below, which was relatively empty, as expected for a Wednesday night.

Malfoy shuffled into the room, kicked off his shoes, then collapsed face down onto the bed.

"Well, night," said Harry, turning to leave.

"Wait," said Malfoy groggily. "Wait a mo'." He pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed. "Look, Potter. My father would never tell you this, but... he was glad you were at his trial."

Harry nodded. "It was the right thing to do."

"And you ruined it," muttered Draco. "Bloody hero complex." His head plopped back down onto the bed with a dull thud.

Just before he stepped out the door, Harry paused and said," Good luck, Malfoy." When he turned around, Draco was already snoring.


End file.
